


Let Me Share With You

by Hyacinthium



Series: Oumasai Week 2019 [1]
Category: Dangan Ronpa - All Media Types, New Dangan Ronpa V3: Everyone's New Semester of Killing
Genre: Alternate Universe - Post-Apocalypse, Cuddling & Snuggling, DIY Survival Skills, Domestic Fluff, Fluff and Humor, M/M, Married Couple, Oumasai Week 2019, mentioned blood and injury, mentioned death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-16
Updated: 2019-06-16
Packaged: 2020-05-13 05:44:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,813
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19245010
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hyacinthium/pseuds/Hyacinthium
Summary: Shuichi and Kokichi have lived through the end of the world together. They lived through the time after that, also together, and now they're living past that while married. Life is recovering and they're a part of it. Of course they have their scars, but so does everyone else.Which doesn't explain why Kokichi has dragged them both down to the outskirts of the settlement in order to turn an oil barrel into a water filter.Sometimes, things do not change. Kokichi's wild nature included.





	Let Me Share With You

**Author's Note:**

> There's some minor talk about blood and injury at the end, Shuichi thinking back to when they occurred, etc. People are of course implied to die. Also some minor sexual humor. Hence the T rating!

It's has been a grand total of five years since the beginning and end of the... End. 

Shuichi’s eyes twitch at the thought, and the man sighs. Disgruntled is not even the best way to describe his feelings. It is hot. It is humid. He's wearing a very official kind of suit made from horrible thick fabric. Worse than that is a very simple fact. The man is putting together an extremely shitty DIY water filter. 

This is not how he envisioned his post post-apocalyptic life. Saihara Shuichi is supposed to be fulfilling his grudgingly existent Talent, finding things or occasionally solving a murder, but no. Instead he's pouring sand into a huge oil drum.

"Wait! Wait, oh my goodness, Saihara-chan! The diagram was upside down the whoooole tiiiiime," comes a facetious gasps from just behind him. Kokichi's expression is revealed to be utterly blank, once Shuichi twists his neck back around. 

Very much also not how Shuichi envisioned his post post-apocalyptic life. 

"At this point you're just messing with me... Did you even volunteer us to build these filters?" the man grumbles while sitting down on cement. 

"Huh? Oh no. I didn't volunteer anything at all. Totes just," Ouma licks his lips, eyes drifting towards a distant radio tower, "Decided to watch you build a thing. Your survivability skills are why I married you, el Oh El. I lied though, you did it right. Now you only have to pour gravel!" 

There's bags full of charcoal, sand, and gravel; among other things like bugs squirming past Shuichi’s suit. He'd going to be bitten to hell and back. Which can't even sum up how sweaty he is. It's horrible and shitty, but even so he smiles. Kokichi is far from predictable but the man is still capable of purposeful transparency. 

It's been a solid week since they could last spend time together. Kokichi's job is especially exhausting and hard on him. The man frowns slightly, remembering the time where his then boyfriend came home with empty eyes. Especially vacant in ways that Shuichi still sees often. Mirror and street- there are still so many empty people. After that, immediately the next day, Shuichi stopped hearing about Kokichi causing misadventures at work. 

Self blame is always rampant in those that call the shots. Of course, that's assuming that those leaders actually care, and the man knows that Kokichi is absolutely one who does. This world is slowly getting better though. Shuichi just wishes that Kokichi's Talent would stop haunting him with loss.

Actually really time consuming to be a detective too, the man thinks. 

Shuichi’s lips thin, "You just wanted to monopolize my time. Well. Ouma-kun has won. He can start calling me hubby again."

Purple eyes light up with heartfelt glee. 

"Now now... Saihara-chan, it seems like we're missing the pebbles! Did the poison gas kill my brain?" Kokichi questions. Dramatically and exuberantly as he leaps off of his folding chairs, legs wobbling and stiff. 

For a moment there's a surge of well adapted to worry, an instant and primitive need to stand up just in case. But Kokichi tosses the crayon covered paper in his left hand away without a care. He walks over as though his legs are the same as they were during that single week at Hope's Peak. Shuichi can never stop admiring the other man for that nonchalant energy. 

He gets a borderline lapful of Kokichi. 

"You know I am very, verily very, extremely thirsty. Saihara-chan should keep following my instructions," Kokichi murmurs with a teasing smile. 

Blushing, Shuichi sputters quietly while hugging his spouse closer. He eventually mumbles, "I didn't know that you promised Iruma-san to take her place while she's giving. Science classes or a seminar?" 

Kokichi chuckles but ignores those words, "What! Should I give you a hand I mean... "

"Ouma Kokichi-" 

A right hand bumps against Shuichi’s face, gentle, and lukewarm the same way as Kokichi's right leg. The prosthetic is more like art than anything else. Indeed, Shuichi’s first tip was seeing that beautiful and flower covered hand. Work like Angie's is always indescribable in quality. Less practical than the one that Iruma designed, not able to move like the other, but Kokichi likes to call it his date hand for a reason.

"Is this a good hand to have?" Kokichi ponders while the porcelain like material rubs soft circles. 

His eyes are closed, but they both already know this answer. There's no other hand that Shuichi would ever take. It was endlessly painful to go through the end of the world together. Half of the time they wanted to kill one another, stuck with what seemed like some dumbass incapable of understanding.

"My face is covered in scars, but you seem just fine with that. Isn't that all the thinking we need to do?" the Detective quietly puts forth, slowly, recontextualizing the conversation. He then hooks Kokichi's stiff legs around his waist. It's easy to lean in and smell that faint lavender soap. To just sink into the crook of Kokichi's neck, and rest.

Comfort like this can never come often enough.

But it seems that Kokichi doesn't quite want to talk. Maybe he was just being rhetorical. The man hums and rubs Shuichi's back, "Don't you miss it sometimes? That last handful of months where we lived all alone were nice."

"You... You were dying from infection?"

"Really quiet. We had a cabin."

"Kokichi, that was a shack in a mountain. Half literally."

"We didn't have to worry about jobs or buying food. Ah."

"I- Kokichi you cried each time I butchered game, and we were starving what-"

Kokichi huffs and pouts, clearly outraged from Shuichi ruining the mood. The two men end up kissing while mosquitoes buzz around them. It's the opposite of romantic in everyway possible. But it feels like the casual liveliness which Shuichi loves, something they share. annoyance softens too, Kokichi holding needily onto him. But here is not the place to start making out. Kokichi pulls back from their closed mouth kiss.

"Let's go on vacation because I swear we're cheating on one another with our jobs. Screw that," Kokichi idly says. "Overworking culture is dead. I mean most culture is dead but hoooh boy that's not fully bad."

"You mean you don't want to remarry your position as expedition manager?" Shuichi asks, sarcastic and smiling brightly. He laughs while scooping Kokichi up and further into his lap, not even resistant, feeling delightfully off-kilter at the idea of head somewhere fun. Probably a place with not many people during this time of the year. Kokichi never likes to use his cane where people see.

"Were you thinking of the oil barrel? Hubby, I have goooot to say you drilled right in and fi-"

"Please no."

"Anyway, I was planning on the beaches. Spend some time together with you and the water because it's officially not toxic at all. Go to bed after super chaste sex, or like. Maybe nasty stuff. The works," the other man fearlessly vauges. 

Shuichi can't even form a response to all that. He is incredibly weak. 

"We're outside a house, Kokichi..."

"Oh well… no one actually lives here."

Gold eyes stare into perfectly serious purple. Shuichi sighs and proceeds to blow a raspberry into his husband's neck.

"Aaahbhaaahkkkkhuk- Ew,ew eweeeeeew! Oh my God this is worse than when you tried kissing my butt after we tried Kiibo's attempts at moonshine please-"

"I did not do that, you! That's not even what t-that is!" Shuichi squawks, "Kissing your ear, I tried to kiss your ear, why do you keep bringing that up?!"

Kokichi laughs, slowly dips backwards onto his back, and offers his hand until Shuichi pulls them both back up. The Detective sighs fondly yet again. Soon after that he finishes the water filter while Kokichi gives concise instructions. Hopefully Iruma will come home and fix the main water systems. Actually...

Shuichi's eyes narrow as he looks over towards his lover. Kokichi wouldn't lie about the settlement's filters right? They aren't teens anymore after all.

As they walk home there's a smug and prideful grin on Kokichi's face. It's not quite something that Shuichi has seen in a long time. So then, at least this once, the Detective decides to let it go. For now. They walk down renewed asphalt with quiet care together- Kokichi whistling an erratic tune. His knees bend slowly, and more than once he threatens the sky not to rain.

This isn't the kind of post post-apocalypse life that Shuichi had expected. But honestly, he doesn't think that anyone thought there'd be one to begin with. 

Buildings in various stages of ruin, rebuilding, and just finished newness are replaced by long established structures. It won't be long before they reach their own place now. Shuichi watches people mill past in all their normalcy. He wonders how they're all managing to adapt to this world. Years ago it would have been impossible to think about masses of people who all have scars like his.

A yawn escapes Kokichi's mouth, and Shuichi runs his thumb along the man's wedding ring. The badly carved wood feels warm.

"Maybe... I missed a bit of it," he murmurs. "Just a bit."

Sleepy eyes drift over to him while Kokichi fishes for keys, "Huh?"

There's a lot that Shuichi never wants to do again or see again. He doesn't want to watch Kokichi suffering in a half there shack, burnt legs unhealing no matter what they attempt. Pus and red skin along a drunk doctors stitching on that frail wrist. Even the reasons why they have these rings is partly from that. Similarly, the man can still smell his own burns. Raw and painful and on him still in the form of scars. It's unbelievable that Kokichi had been the one to drag them into that shack. No, Shuichi will never ever miss those times.

"I want to spend more time with you. That's all."

They took life for granted, and death for granted, in the sense that neither of them could fully fathom what the difference was anymore.

Shuichi's one thing that he never took for granted is what he's seeing now.

A smile spreads across Kokichi's face, soft and at first subtle- one hesitant stretch that highlights fine wrinkles and youthful dimples. It reaches his eyes like a weak campfire and ignites them with excitement. Like call backs to a half rotted Monopoly board that neither of them could win at on purpose. Wrapping around from ear to ear just before Kokichi's nose scrunches. 

It feels like Shuichi sees this smile less often now, and that's certainly what he misses. 

"Do you think they have bonfires at the beach?"

"Oho? I'll sue if they don't! I want to roast a whole tuna!"

The day goes on with sputtering, kisses, and smiles.

**Author's Note:**

> Back to writing my other projects hahaha AHHH


End file.
